A Norse polytheist walking with Sigyn

Tag Archives: Mani

Possible names include: Flower, Corn Planting, Milk, and Hare Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Flower”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

“You smell that?”

Hati inhaled and glanced up at Mani, “Flowers?”

“Not just any flowers.”

While he noted that Mani was leaning out of the wain, Hati couldn’t bring himself to get overly concerned. After a few centuries of Mani pushing the limits on how far he could reach out of the wain, it had stopped fully registering on his radar.

“The moonflowers are opening up.”

Hati sniffed the air, a little puzzled, “That’s more than just moonflowers — ”

“They’re opening for the moon, so they are all moonflowers now. I don’t make the rules.”

Hati sighed and continued to keep pace with the wain. They’d hit that point in spring.

Possible names include: Pink, Sprouting Grass, Egg, Fish, Seed, and Planter’s Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Fish”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

The horses were walking their usual path, and everything seemed to be going along rather well for the moon’s path that night. A small projectile flew out of the driver’s seat and sailed past Hati’s nose, and he knew he’d spoken too soon. The projectile dangled below the star path but was connected to something; Hati walked around the edge of the wain.

“You’re fishing?”

“For people.”

“Are you sure this is – ?”

Mani yanked on the rod and pulled the projectile into the wain. Attached to it was a small slip of paper. He read it and tossed the projectile back among the stars while thinking, “It’s going to take a little while to get this prayer into motion, but it’s not a no”.

Possible names include: Worm, Sap, Chaste, Fish, Crust, Crow, and Lenten Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Fish”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction that I wrote last March but was asked to schedule for this year (2017).

. . .

Mani dropped a few breadcrumbs into the pond water and waited for a moment or two. A flash of red and orange led the way in crowding around the crumbs, and he carefully dropped in pellets as well. He let his fingers trail in the water, and as the fish brushed his fingertips, sections of white appeared on their scales. While Mani spent most of his time steering the moon at night in the company of the stars, he didn’t mind starting out while there was still daylight hours on some days. Sometimes, it could be as relaxing as sitting at the edge of a pond and streaking the koi.

Possible names include: Cold, Long Nights, Oak, Christmas,and Moon Before Yule. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Yule”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

Mani flicked the reins gently, and the horses slowed down along the star path. He opened his thermos and settled into the reindeer blankets, listening to snippets of celebrations. Hati stretched near his feet and glanced down at the worlds below.

“They really like throwing parties in the winter, don’t they?”

Mani hummed with the faint tune of a carol before replying, “It’s how they keep their lights kindled.”

A passing Snowflake waved at the pair, and Mani waved back. He flicked the reins again, and the horses resumed their normal pace.

Possible names include: Beaver, Snow, Frost, and Frosty Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Frost”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

Mani watched the human through the window. It wasn’t a movie cliche with warm lighting, many family members, and food on the table, but they were okay. His fingers glided over the glass, leaving swirls of frost. The paperwork had gone through, and all the energy cords connecting them had been cut, but that only dulled things down to an ache and a whisper of loss. He knew they would move on faster because human systems were built for that (lifespans barely edged beyond a century), but he didn’t know when this feeling would recede into memory.

Possible names include: Travel, Dying, Blood, and Hunter’s Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Dying”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

The sun sets on pale flesh, and he cites the light of truth for the transformation in the moonlight – wounds with hanging skin, dried blood, the heat of inflammation and infection, the smell of rot. You may think you are fine, but trust what is revealed at night – you are dying on the inside.

Possible names include: Corn, Harvest, and Barley Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Harvest”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

The stalks of corn reflect the moonlight back a little too well. That must be why your mind shivers an image of bones over the top of them. The small gourds on the vines seem to roll like knuckles, and you step off the edge of the garden instinctively. The flash of silver in the corner of your eye was just moonlight, right?

The pens of history have never heard of what happens in the moonlight, but when my peers were given blood and flesh, do you think I said no?

Possible names include: Sturgeon, Green Corn, Red, and Grain Moon. Mani previously indicated that He’d like me to use “Grain”, but He has since wanted me to use “Red”, though I make no guarantee that He’d want the same from someone else. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

The red beads fall to the ground, muted by the silver light. A part of your mind scolds to not be superstitious, but a part of you whispers about coincidences. String can break; it’s not the end of the world. But as you gently set the rest of the prayer beads to the side, you decide to not continue with the prayer set anyways. Something doesn’t feel right about it.

Possible names include: Hay, Buck, and Thunder Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Buck”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is a piece of sacred fiction.

. . .

Mani curls the skin of a buck around his shoulders and slowly descends through the clouds, and the transformation is complete as he steps onto the ground. He walks through the woods quietly, approaching a human. They glance behind at the snap of a twig but remain silent.

“No hello?”

The human faces forward and continues reading in the light of their lamp. Mani slowly walks to their side and lays down, careful not to whack them with his antlers.

“You’re a bit upset, I take it.”

“Me? Upset?”, the human scoffed and turned a page, “Why would I be upset that you left?”

“It was inevitable, really –”

“You’re the one who kept changing Faces –”

“Incompatibilities kept coming up with all the shadow work you were doing or working on, and I was trying to turn the best Face towards you at the the time.”

“Why didn’t you just say that then?”

“I didn’t want you to think it was your fault.”

“We’re not very good at communicating, are we?.”

The human turned to see a swath of moonlight on the ground instead of the previous form. He had left again.

Possible names include: Strawberry, Honey, Rose, and Mead Moon. Mani indicated that He would like me to use “Strawberry”, though I make no guarantee He’d want someone else to do the same. The following is almost more along the lines of prose / poetry.

. . .

I run my thumb over the fruit on the counter, a reject in the line of ingredients for margaritas. The dimpled surface feels like a match for your face, which is barely perceptible in the corner of the window. You’re almost full but not quite. I take a sip of the offered margarita but turn it down, despite the sweet fruitiness hiding the tequila. I worry the berry on the counter for another moment before slowly eating it – savoring the roll of the r, la fresa. Almost but not quite, almost but not, almost but, almost.